The Epidemic

by Suzanne Young

  “Quinn,” he says quietly, “be careful. I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but your behavior at the lighthouse . . .” He narrows his eyes to study me. “I think you’re too attached to this. It’s compromising all of us.”

  He has no idea; he has no idea what I went through with Catalina Barnes’s family, with her boyfriend, and how I know what it’s really like to be compromised on assignment. I don’t know how to not get attached.

  I squeeze his hand. “Thank you,” I say. “I’ll be careful; I promise.” I don’t provide an explanation, even though I can see that he wants one. I’m sad that Catalina’s words are gone; part of me was still connected to her. Now I’ve lost her last mark on my world.

  There were ways to get the information on the lighthouse; I doubt Virginia gave it away. If only she knew what they’ve stolen.

  Aaron and Virginia are at the room door, and I step ahead to swipe my key card. I push the door open, motioning for Virginia to go on in. She studies me as she passes, like she’s concerned about my behavior too. Reed follows her in, but Aaron and I hang back to talk.

  I let the door close, and we go to the railing, facing the parking lot. “You okay?” he asks quietly.

  “Not really,” I tell him. We both check our surroundings, the threat of being followed real now that we’ve seen how far Arthur will go to keep Virginia from her memories. Because of course it’s Arthur who’s done this. Who else would be so cruel?

  “What does he want?” I ask, looking sideways at Aaron. “What does Arthur want for his daughter? I don’t understand why he’s wiping her memory. Why did he do it to me?”

  Aaron stares at me a long moment and then blinks rapidly. “Wait,” he says. “What are you talking about?”

  I realize that he doesn’t know. I told him about my father not being my father, but Deacon and I never told him about my memory or about Deacon working for Arthur. We didn’t mean to shut him out. At least, I don’t think we consciously meant to. My skin prickles when I swallow hard and say, “Arthur’s erased my memory several times.”

  Aaron swings around, his back against the railing, and furrows his brow. “That son of a bitch,” he growls.

  “There’s more,” I start, wishing Deacon were here to explain this next part himself. But he’s not, and I can’t keep our friend in the dark anymore. “You remember back when Deacon quit and we broke up?” I ask. “Right before that, Deacon was brought in to meet with Arthur.” Aaron shifts uncomfortably. “Arthur told Deacon that I was an experiment of sorts, his patient zero. He said I’d undergone memory manipulation and that he needed me monitored for any changes. He . . . he, uh, hired Deacon to do that. He made Deacon a handler.”

  Aaron’s expression is immediately stricken. “Please tell me you’re fucking with me right now,” he says.

  I shake my head no. “But Deacon didn’t tell him anything,” I explain quickly. “He only took the job so that Arthur wouldn’t hire someone else in his place. He’s been looking out for me. He had no idea that Arthur had continued to manipulate my memories. He—”

  “So you’re telling me that your boyfriend is a liar?” Aaron says, his tone ticking up in volume. “You’re saying that the thing Marie is supposedly trying to help us get away from is exactly what Deacon willingly signed up for?”

  This is not going well. “Yes,” I say. “But—”

  Aaron widens his eyes, taking a step back from me. “Stop,” he says. “I . . . I left Myra to help you guys. You’ve fucked up my life and it didn’t occur to you to tell me what Deacon’s gotten into?” He shakes his head, his face pulled into a sneer. “I’ve got to go,” he murmurs suddenly, and starts to walk away.

  “Aaron?” I call, surprised he didn’t give me a chance to explain. “Wait!” He doesn’t look back and continues down the corridor.

  The door opens, startling me, and Reed pokes his head out. He notices Aaron walking away and then sees me with my hand still on the railing, staring stupidly back at him.

  “Everything all right?” Reed asks.

  “No. Not quite,” I respond. Aaron needs time to cool off, I assure myself. He’ll be back. I should have waited for Deacon to explain, even if that meant lying to Aaron a little longer.

  “Let’s get inside,” I tell Reed, not wanting to have this same discussion with him. Reed steps aside in the doorway so I can walk in. Virginia sits on the bed, and I take the spot nearest the window so I can fold back the curtain and watch the parking lot for Deacon’s car.

  I feel Reed watching me. The room has grown uncomfortably warm, a burning scent in the air from the heater running on high. I glance over at Reed. “What?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I’m going to grab a Coke. Want anything?” I tell him I’m not thirsty, and he asks Virginia if she’s interested in a chilled beverage.

  “Sure,” she says. “Thanks.”

  Reed leaves for the vending machines downstairs, and once he’s gone, Virginia comes to sit on the bed closest to me. I keep my eyes on the parking lot.

  “Deacon?” Virginia asks after a moment. I let the curtain fall closed. “You mentioned him earlier,” she continues. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Deacon’s my everything,” I tell her. Not in a lovesick way—we’re way past that. It’s my truth. Deacon is my boyfriend, my best friend, my family. And right now I don’t know where he is, and the fear in that is starting to suffocate me.

  The corner of Virginia’s mouth turns up like she thinks the words are meant to be romantic. “I thought maybe you and Reed . . .”

  “No,” I say. “Reed and I are just friends. Like I told you, we’re all closers.”

  She nods and eases herself down on the edge of the bed. “Closers,” she says as if reminding herself. “My father once told me that closers don’t feel the same way the rest of us do. He said he handpicked all of you for exactly that reason.”

  This revelation twists in my stomach. “What else did he say?” I ask. I want to tell her that her father took custody of me at one point when I was a child, but I’m not sure what that would accomplish. She can’t remember. She seems even emptier than before.

  “He never mentioned any of you by name,” Virginia tells me. “But he said closers can mimic people really well because they don’t want to be themselves. He says all of you are abandoned.” She pauses and looks at me. “Does my father know you’re here?”

  “No,” I say. “At least I don’t think so. He’s lying, by the way. Closers do want to be themselves—they want their lives. Your father and the grief department kept us from them, though. They used us. Anything he says to the contrary is a lie.”

  “Do you have a family?” she asks gently. I flinch at the question.

  “Not anymore,” I say. “And we made an agreement earlier, you and me. I was going to help you find your memories, and in return you were going to get me access to your father’s files. I got into his computer, but I didn’t find anything. When I saw you had recovered your memories . . . I thought you’d be able to help me.” My eyes start to well up. “Your dad has hidden my identity—he erased my memories too. And now he’s taken my best chance to get them back.”

  “So it’s not just me,” she says, but the thought of this seems to horrify her, to displace her. Virginia studies her hands in her lap. “I’ll look into it for you,” she offers quietly. She lifts her eyes to mine. “But I’ll have to go home first.”

  There’s a click, and I turn to see Reed standing in the doorway, holding two sodas. “She’s right,” he says. “She has to go home.” He puts the drinks on the table and steadies a hard gaze on me. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks in a lowered tone.

  “Uh . . . yeah. Sure,” I say.

  I tell Virginia we’ll be right back, and I walk outside with Reed, noting the chill that has crept into the air. Reed goes to the wood railing, grips it, and turns to me.

  “Arthur knows we’re with Virginia,” he says.

/>   The world seems to drop out from under me. “What?” I ask. “How do you know that?” I look around, afraid I’ll find Arthur rushing up the stairs to grab me. But it’s just me and Reed out here.

  “Marie called while I was downstairs,” Reed says. “She told me Arthur contacted her and said that if his daughter isn’t home within the hour, he’ll put out an Amber Alert. He’s saying we kidnapped her.”

  “She came willingly,” I snap, as if he’s arguing. “We didn’t throw her in a sack and drag her away. And what about Deacon?” I ask. “What does he say?”

  “Marie didn’t mention him,” Reed responds. “I barely got five words out before Marie told me that Tabitha is missing. She wants us to meet right now at her apartment for a debriefing. Deacon’s probably waiting there. Marie said she’s sending us home.”

  “Home?” Aaron says, and I turn to see him walking down the hall toward us. “Which of us has a home?” Reed furrows his brow, confused at Aaron’s bitter tone.

  But my entire body has tensed with fear—why wouldn’t Marie mention Deacon? Why wouldn’t he have just gotten on the phone? He went there to drug her with truth tea—obviously that didn’t happen. “Aaron,” I say, sounding desperate. “Have you heard from Deacon?”

  “Nope. Maybe he’s with his boy Arthur.”

  “I’m not fucking kidding,” I say.

  Aaron’s face grows serious. “Neither am I, Quinlan.” We stare each other down, but more than anything I’m hurt that he’s not more worried. Although I shouldn’t judge him so harshly. When I thought Deacon had betrayed me, I left him in a bus station.

  “I’m sure Deacon’s okay,” Reed tells me, reaching to put his cool hand over mine. It startles me, and when I look at him, I note the dark circles under his eyes.

  “This isn’t like him,” I tell him. “He wouldn’t leave me here to worry.”

  “Deacon doesn’t always do what we expect, now, does he?” Aaron interjects. I nearly start to cry at his harshness, and Aaron’s eyes soften slightly. “I’ll see you at Marie’s,” he murmurs. He passes by and goes down the stairs.

  “Do I want to know what that’s about?” Reed asks me.

  “Not really.” I take out my phone to dial Deacon’s number again. With each ring my concern grows. Where is he? When the line goes to voice mail, I hang up and dial Marie. Again no answer. I turn to Reed.

  “I have to get to Marie’s,” I say. “Can you take Virginia home for me?”

  He flinches. “I’d really rather not,” he says. “If I’m being honest, she scares the hell out of me.” He looks at my closed door. “I mean, it’s not her, exactly. But if everyone around her is dying, Quinn, I’d like to keep our interaction to a minimum. I’m not in a good headspace right now.”

  “I have to check on Deacon,” I say, my voice softer. “Please help me with this.”

  Reed watches me a moment, and then he nods. “Of course,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I say, and hug him. “You’re a really good closer, Reed.”

  After a moment he pulls back and looks down at me, my hands still on his forearms. “I think I’d rather be a good person,” he whispers.

  The door of the motel room opens, and Virginia walks out, her backpack over her shoulders. She looks between me and Reed and then presses her lips into a smile. “Well, let’s go,” she says.

  Reed straightens, seemingly taken aback by her eagerness to go home. He tightens his jacket around himself.

  Virginia shrugs. “My father’s already erased my memory,” she tells us. “What more can he do?”

  Without missing a beat, Reed goes over to her. “Let’s not think about that. Here”—he offers to take her bag—“I’ll give you a ride home.” And even I’m charmed by his boyish tone and chivalry.

  Virginia hands over her backpack, and as Reed heads for the stairs, she looks at me. “I’m going to help you,” Virginia tells me. “I’ll find out who you are.”

  “I promise I’ll help you, too,” I say, hoping that I can. Instead of looking relieved by my words, a bit of sadness colors her expression.

  “It’s too late for that,” she responds quietly.

  And before I can ask what she means, she rushes after Reed. I call for a taxi, hoping that Deacon will indeed be waiting for me at Marie’s. He has to be.

  Like Aaron said earlier: Deacon is always okay.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MARIE IS STAYING IN A studio apartment just outside downtown Roseburg. When I get dropped off out front, I practically sprint up the two flights of stairs and bang on her door. I’m surprised when Shep opens it, but I rush past him, bumping his shoulder.

  “Hey,” he calls after me. “Nice to see you too.”

  Once inside, I quickly dart my gaze around. The room is hardly furnished, with only a twin bed and a folding chair—not what I’d expect from Marie. Then again, she’s only been here a few days.

  Shep plops himself down on the floor, and I find Aaron hanging near the sink in the efficiency kitchen. His eyes are downcast and his palm is flat over his mouth.

  Marie sits in the folding chair, legs crossed and her hands on her knee. She’s normally a vision, but today I see someone different. She is stripped down with no lipstick and her braids gathered up in a messy bun. Her clothes are wrinkled, and her feet are bare. I’ve never seen Marie as anything other than what she wants to portray—perfection.

  But my chest is burning and my fingers begin to tremble. “Where is he?” I demand, glaring at her. “Where’s Deacon?”

  “Tabitha disappeared last night,” she says calmly. “And now it seems . . . so has Deacon.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, starting to shake. “He was here with you. He came to see you, Marie. Where did he—”

  “No.” She shakes her head, her expression solemn. “He never arrived. I only found out he wasn’t with you because Aaron just told me.”

  I turn to Aaron, so lit up with fear that my voice cracks. “You said he’d be okay,” I tell him, hoping he’ll still claim that it’s true. But Aaron winces and lifts his eyes to the ceiling.

  “Keep your head,” Marie says to me. I look at her, tears spilling onto my cheeks as my emotions spin out of control. “You have to keep your head, Quinlan,” she repeats, “if we hope to get him back.”

  “Back from whom?” I ask, putting my hand over my heart to stop the pain there.

  “I’m not sure,” Marie says sympathetically. “Not yet. That’s why you’re all here.” She reaches down to pick up a file from the floor under her seat.

  I do what she asks—I temper my emotions, trying to lock them away so I can think rationally. Deacon’s fine. I won’t believe anything else. But it’s an impossible task. I want to scream and run and do everything in my power to find Deacon. That won’t work, though. I need a plan.

  “This is Tabitha’s file,” Marie continues. “She didn’t return to her apartment last night, and her phone has been disconnected. Since no body has turned up, there’s no reason to think she’s deceased.” Marie opens the folder on her lap. I know what she’s done. She’s compiled Tabitha’s history, breaking her entire life down into a file-size report. I’m relieved that she doesn’t have one for Deacon.

  There’s a quick knock, and Reed opens the door. Marie waves him in impatiently, and I nod as Reed passes me on his way to the kitchen, pausing at the counter next to Aaron. I notice immediately how his expression has darkened. Aaron leans in and whispers to him about Deacon, and Reed flashes me a concerned look. I press my lips together and let him know I’m okay. Or, at least, I’m trying to be.

  “I’ve been unable to get in touch with Dr. McKee,” Marie continues. She doesn’t even glance at me when she mentions my father’s name, and fresh fear of his condition burns my skin. But it’s just one of my many problems. “It is entirely possible that Tabitha has run away to Portland,” Marie says. “And that is her right. So now I’m giving you the same option. It’s too late for closers here. There is no cure f
or this epidemic.”

  Reed shifts on his feet. Aaron walks out from behind the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. Marie sees them both, still avoiding my eyes, and closes the folder on her lap.

  “And what about Deacon?” I ask, panicked at the lack of immediate answers. “What happened to him?”

  Marie sits quietly, letting dread and fear surround us in the room. “I know he wouldn’t leave without you,” she says in a measured tone. “So the fact that he’s not here means that he’s in danger.”

  No, I think. No, please. “Then we’re going to save him,” I say simply. “And you’re going to help us.”

  Marie gives me a stoic look of admiration, agreement. She glances past me to Shep. “There’s money in an envelope on the counter to help you get out of town,” she tells him. “Let me be very clear—go far. Any interference will only cause more complications for us. We have bigger things to consider now.” She stands, her rigid posture shutting down further conversation on the topic. “Thank you for your time, Shepard. Please go.”

  Shep gets to his feet, slapping hands with Reed before grabbing the envelope and heading to the door. Attachment is clearly not one of his difficulties. The minute the door closes behind him, Aaron scoffs.

  “What was that about?” he asks Marie. “We need him to find Deacon.”

  “No we don’t,” she says. “He’s a handler for Arthur. I only found out about Shep yesterday morning—Tabitha told me. And then she disappeared.”

  “That’s not possible,” Reed says, sounding stunned. “Shep . . .” He runs his fingers roughly through his hair. “I was staying with him. He’s a kid.”

  “You’re all kids,” Marie responds, standing up. “And yet we’ve used you anyway.”

  The words are harsh, and Aaron flinches against them. Marie notices his reaction and takes a step toward him before stopping herself. “I wish you’d stayed away,” she tells him quietly. “You and Myra had a real chance. But now . . . now we need your help.”

  Aaron’s jaw is clenched. Although he cares about us, he misses Myra. I took that from him when I asked for his help. I’m to blame for this. He tilts his chin up defiantly. “Yeah, no shit,” he says. “I’m not leaving without Deacon.”